


The World Keeps Turning Our Way

by hostagesfic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gratuitous Use of "Bro", HL History, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Multi, Riding, Rimming, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 01:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3310865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostagesfic/pseuds/hostagesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Lads,” Niall speaks up, tentative, “not to be like, dramatic or whatever, but. Do we wanna split up so quick, like? We just got here, and believe it or not I’ve missed you—”<br/>“Why wouldn’t we believe it? I’d miss me,” Harry interrupts, and Niall snorts.<br/>“<i>Listen</i>, though. I vote we stay in and do nothing a bit? Just lads being lads. Order in a bite to eat, watch a film, whatever you like.”<br/>Liam reaches over to give Niall a fistbump. “I like that, Nialler. Lads’ lazy day.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Keeps Turning Our Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mdashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdashes/gifts).



> _Prompt #3: Ways the band has learned to take care of each other on tour, up to and including getting each other off, you know, to relieve stress. Non-AU, shippy OT5_ with elements of _Prompt #1: One of the boys notices that the band is drifting apart, everyone has separate interests, etc., and goes on a mission to remind everyone how much they love each other and make sure they stay together for a fifth album._
> 
> [mdashes](http://ao3.org/users/mdashes/), you said you were “Definitely always here for Harry/Louis pain” and we sort of took that and ran with it, with a dose of HEA. Also a fair bit of Zayn-centric angst, oops. He just looks pretty when he’s sad. Girlfriends exist in this universe but are cool with OT5 Being OT5 On Tour™. We know the HL reads really vaguely, so like, fill in the blanks. Also, this just... diverges from beginning-of-tour canon (irl Zayn seems to be very happy lately, for one!), but _we wrote it first_ , so technically irl 1D are the ones fucking with our canon, dammit.  
> Thanks to [Alora](http://zaptains.tumblr.com/) for the wonderful beta read: you’re a true bro. Also thanks to [Nicole](http://literallyfuckeveryone.tumblr.com/) for looking over this for us, you’re the best. Title is a tweaked lyric from On The Road Again by Willie Nelson. (We like [this version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBN86y30Ufc).)

Louis and Zayn take the first flight down, leaving out of Heathrow just after eleven p.m. Granted, the alternative was getting picked up at six the next morning like Harry and Liam elected to do. “Bro flight!” Louis says, when he jumps on Zayn as he emerges from his car, bags beneath his eyes and beanie pulled down over the tips of his ears. “Haven’t seen you in forever, mate.” 

Zayn makes a grumbly little sound against Louis’ neck and squeezes his middle before pulling away to grab his backpack from the car. “You good?” he asks, following Louis across the pavement and to the steps of the plane. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis grins. “You know how it is, just getting ready to fly halfway ‘round the world for my popstar job.”

“Sick,” Zayn laughs. He sounds a little hoarse, and Louis narrows his eyes, jumps up the last two steps to shove his face into Zayn’s hoodie. 

When he gets a good deep sniff he shoves at Zayn. “You fucker, how high are you right now?”

Zayn stumbles across the threshold of the plane and reaches backwards, clutching at Louis’ arm to keep from falling. Louis wraps his arm around Zayn’s ribs and gives him another little hug, refuses to let go as they stumble past the pilot and into the main cabin. 

“Wanna sleep,” Zayn says, plopping down on one of the seats towards the back, giving Louis a tired look that could so easily be mistaken for puppy eyes. “Looooou.”

“I thought this was the party plane,” Louis grumbles, flopping right on Zayn’s bony legs. “Fine. So long as it’s not the crunchy granola plane with Payno and Harold.”

Zayn shrugs, and tugs at Louis’ sweatshirt, drawing him back to lean against his side. “Shut up, bro. Nap with me.”

Louis goes easily enough, knowing just how brutal jetlag can be; there’s a vain hope he can cure it before it happens. It’s easy enough to push up the armrest to give them a little more room, and Zayn reaches between the seats to recline the backs. They still end up mostly in the same seat, cuddled up with arms linked, Zayn’s face smushed into Louis’ shoulder.

Someone had the bright idea to fly into Sydney a whole week before the first show for extra rehearsal time on the finished stage. Paul hadn’t complained about the extra time to try and get the five of them to remember just a few more stage directions, and Helene always says the more time they spend working on harmonies the better they’ll sound. Louis’ grudgingly thankful for it now, the extra days to fight off jetlag and catch up with the others before they have to put on a show. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t send a wistful text to his mum before take-off. 

When he checks the tour WhatsApp, Niall’s added a new selfie, apparently climbing on board his own flight out of Dublin, and Harry’s complimented his nostril hair. Zayn makes a displeased sound and swats at Louis’ phone screen. “Too bright, bro, turn that shit down.” 

“I’ll tell Nialler you don’t want to see his face at full brightness,” Louis threatens, thumbs hovering over the keys. 

“Don’t,” Zayn maintains. “Rather see it later, like, tomorrow, for real.” 

“Is it gonna be tomorrow or are we losing a day in the process?” Louis hums. He can never keep it straight. The time differences and travel times are especially fucked for flights to the opposite side of the world.

“Fuck if I know. Sleep, Louis, c’mon,” Zayn insists, pressing a gentle kiss to Louis’ shoulder.

“Fine,” Louis huffs, and taps out a quick _see u soon mates !_ , waits for it to pop up before closing the app and locking his screen. 

;

“We missed you so much!” 

Louis startles awake with Harry’s mouth damp against his ear, mid-exclamation, and elbows him promptly in the kidney. Harry yowls and falls back onto the foot of the bed, and Louis sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Liam is being absurdly gentle over on the other side of the mattress as he strokes Zayn’s side to wake him up. 

“Why’d I always get the slobbery alarm,” Louis grumbles. 

Harry smiles beatifically. “Because we have history.”

“You’re all dickheads for leaving me out of this,” comes Niall’s voice from a few feet away, presumably at the door. “What the fuck?”

Liam pokes his head up and offers Niall an apologetic smile. “We’d never intentionally leave you out, Nialler. Heat of the moment?”

Niall gives him a once-over; Liam’s mostly straddling Zayn’s leg, the comforter between them, and he still has a hand on Zayn’s side, petting his ribs. Although he’s awake, Zayn’s still got his eyes screwed tightly shut. “Heat of the moment,” Niall repeats, sets down his yogurt cup on the nightstand and tucks his phone into his back pocket before diving on top of the pile, knocking his head against Harry’s shoulder and kneeing Liam in the side.

“That always turns out _so_ much better in my head,” Niall laments over Harry’s melodramatic pained howling and Liam’s grumbling.

“You’re all bastards and I hate you,” Louis announces to the world at large. He still manages to sneak a hand around Harry to pet Niall’s hair.

From somewhere beneath Liam, Zayn mumbles agreement.

“Your _favorite_ bastards,” Harry sighs dreamily.

“Fuck off,” Louis says, very gently, like he means something a little less biting. At his side, Zayn’s still got his eyes closed as he pets Liam’s jaw, thumbing over what’s closer to a beard than just stubble, at this point. Liam looks like a large dog being pet by a very small child, but Louis resists the urge to tell him so just yet.

“Do we have work things to do today?” Harry wonders aloud.

“Nah,” Niall says. “Basil let me in and said it’s a free day, whatever we want.”

“Want quiet,” Zayn says. “Want sleep.” 

“But we’ve got a free day,” Liam says, “We could go surfing! We could do anything we want, Zayn, you can’t just _sleep_ through that.”

Zayn flicks at Liam’s lower lip. “Watch me.”

Louis shifts so that Niall’s shin isn’t as heavy against his side. “I’ll go with you, if you’re really keen on surfing, Payno.” 

“Lads,” Niall speaks up, tentative, “not to be like, dramatic or whatever, but. Do we wanna split up so quick, like? We just got here, and believe it or not I’ve missed you—”

“Why wouldn’t we believe it? I’d miss me,” Harry interrupts, and Niall snorts.

“ _Listen_ , though. I vote we stay in and do nothing a bit? Just lads being lads. Order in a bite to eat, watch a film, whatever you like.”

Liam reaches over to give Niall a fistbump. “I like that, Nialler. Lads’ lazy day.”

“So long as I don’t have to spend it underneath you all, sounds good,” Louis shrugs. “You gonna buy me a new pancreas, now that you’ve crushed me old one?”

“I bet we could afford it,” Liam says brightly. “Black market pancreas for Lou. What does the pancreas even do?”

Zayn sighs. 

“I don’t know, but I think it’s something to do with your glands,” Harry offers. “Enzymes, maybe? Digestion?”

“Is it like a smaller stomach?” Liam looks confused.

“Someone Google it quick,” Louis decides. 

“Got it,” Niall nods, waving his phone about. “Right, so, it’s a gland organ in the digestive and endocrine system of vertebrates— verte— wait, what?” 

“Means animals and humans,” comes Zayn’s disembodied voice. “Anything with a backbone’s got one.”

“Science time with One Direction!” Harry grins.

“How’d you even come up with this, Tommo?” Liam wonders. Zayn’s silently coerced him into bringing his face up to his so Zayn can rub their cheeks together, stubble catching like velcro. “That tickles, Zayn!”

“I’m a genius,” Louis says, like, _duh_ Liam. He’s managed to shove Harry mostly off, which gives him more room to get his hands in Harry’s hair, yanking out the elastic holding it all into a tiny, round bun. “Who’s gonna bring me food, then?” he demands, coiling a strand of Harry’s hair around his finger with one hand and scratching behind his ear with the other. The springy bits have migrated to Harry’s nape, it seems.

“Staff,” Harry suggests blandly. “There’s a menu on the desk.” 

“Yes!” Niall agrees, and shuffles backwards off the bed to retrieve it, handing it to Louis and squeezing back in between him and Zayn. “What’re you getting, Lou?”

Louis shrugs. “Dunno, feeling a bit like a good omelette, maybe some sausages.” He takes his time scanning the menu. 

“Sausages,” Zayn giggles, somewhere against Liam’s neck now. 

“Love a good sausage,” Harry adds. 

“Like we don’t have enough of those in this bed, eh?” Niall laughs, tracing the petals on Zayn’s hand tattoo.

“Liam’s got a nice sausage handy just now,” Zayn says, apparently having decided he’s really awake and shifting so his face comes out of the duvet. 

“Do not,” Liam says automatically, flushed. He shoves at Zayn a little under the covers and wriggles off the bed, making his way to the bathroom stiffly. Zayn tugs Niall down into the space he left and props his chin on Niall’s shoulder to wait, smiling triumphantly.

As much as Louis would love to explore whatever’s making Liam’s cheeks pink this time, he really is kind of hungry. “Phone, Styles,” he hums, punctuated with a little tug at Harry’s hair. “I’m deciding what everyone’s eating, since none of you are any help. If you don’t like it you can leave the band.”

;

The first night of tour is always absolutely mental. They’ve played hundreds of shows before, sure, but there's always been something about that very first night of a new tour that feels like it'll set the tone for the next eight months they spend on the road. 

For what it's worth, they haven't played stadiums in Australia before, but there isn't much of a difference: Harry's still got his candles burning in a corner, and Helene still leads them in a group warm-up, and Lou still attacks them with cans of hairspray; this time with a little help from Lottie, trailing along with a tin of face powder and a fluffy brush. Liam still does jumping jacks and tries to box with Paddy, and Caroline still rolls Zayn's sleeves meticulously, and every little element and burst of energy combines until they're minutes away from going onstage, five boys huddled with their arms around each other, smiling like they've got a secret nobody else will ever know.

"Hands in," Louis growls, smirking devilishly.

"Smash it," Liam grins, holding his hand in.

"On the road again," Harry sings under his minty breath, having ritualistically just brushed his teeth, and covers Liam's hand with his.

Zayn's hand comes in next. "Ready, boys."

"Love you," Niall smiles and pulls Louis' hand in with his.

The stage is the same size as the ones they used on their previous stadium tour, if a slightly different configuration, and out there, just the five of them under searing lights, the weight of the evening heat being reflected back at them off the thousands of sweating, smiling faces, it feels like home.

;

Just like that, they fall back into the rhythm of tour: Australia has some of the loudest crowds and cheekiest fans, and it makes for a sick trip down under. 

Niall and Harry hire a caddy for the first day off between shows. They haven’t seen Zayn since the night before, as they split up after the show, and Liam and Louis are out somewhere. Liam had posted something about a private beach in their WhatsApp. 

Harry looms over his ball, just a few feet from the hole, a shot Niall could putt in his sleep. For some reason, though, Harry enjoys being melodramatic and turning it into something on par with brain surgery.

“You gonna take that shot sometime today, Styles?” Niall teases, taking a sip of his beer and pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. It’s balls hot out, but he’d rather get a little sun and time on a course than sit inside staring at walls.

Harry grunts, sparing a glance at Niall. “You booze, you lose, Niall. Have you not learned anything from the life lessons inked into my skin?”

“You’re out of your mind,” Niall snorts, and Harry takes the shot, the ball rolling straight into the hole.

“I am a _legend_ ,” Harry announces, waving the putter above his head, then using it as a cane as he does his best to high-kick in pressed golf trousers.

“Legend— wait for it—” and Niall cackles. “God, I’d forgotten how good this is, mate. Wish we could just stay down here.”

“Japan though,” Harry reminds him, putting the club back in his bag. “Going back there is gonna be so sick.”

“True,” Niall points at him. “I hope we get to go to one of them restaurants, like. You remember? The ones where you sit on the floor and stuff. It’s good when we get to like, all do stuff together.” He takes a sip of his beer, shrugs. “Kinda miss it, t’be honest.”

“Tour’s _just_ started, Niall,” Harry laughs. “We do stuff together all the time. We all go onstage together, don’t we?”

Niall scuffs the toe of his fancy golf shoe into the turf. “Yeah, but it’s different, innit, like. We don’t even know where Louis and Liam are right now, and Zayn’s like, locked himself in his room. It’s just like last tour.” 

“They’re surfing,” Harry offers blandly, then frowns. “Is it bad? I haven’t really, like, thought of it like that before.”

“I guess it’s whatever,” Niall shrugs. “Like, I know Liam and Louis like surfing and Zayn likes staying holed up and stuff, and that’s okay, I guess, but in the beginning we used to do everything together, and now we don’t really do a lot of stuff other’n work all together? Maybe I’m overthinking it.”

“No, I hear ya,” Harry nods, brows still furrowed as he takes a sip of water. Come think of it, it’s a bit early in the tour for Zayn to withdraw the way he does when he’s homesick; that’s usually at least a couple of months in. “So what do you suggest, more Japanese restaurants?”

Niall laughs, bumping his shoulder against Harry’s. “Shut up, I don’t know.”

“I don’t know,” Harry repeats in an Irish accent, giggling when Niall shoves him again. “Hey, wanna head back and go bug Zayn?”

“Not even going to finish?” 

Harry shrugs modestly. “We both know I’d win, anyway. This saves you the embarrassment.”  

Niall hipchecks him thoughtlessly; the physical contact just seems nice these days. “Fuck you, Styles.” 

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” Harry simpers, and races Niall back to their cart.

;

They’re boarding the flight to Japan before Niall’s had the time to bring it up again. 

“Glad you let me tag along this time, boys,” he grins, dodging Louis’ nipple pinch in the narrow hall and ducking behind Liam’s broad shoulders to stay out of reach. “Nice not to take a flight on me own for once.”

“Poor Basil,” Liam pouts. Now that he’s between Louis and Niall, he’s the one slapping Louis’ hands away from his defenseless nipples. “I’m gonna tell him you’re being mean, Nialler.”

“Basil’s a big boy,” Niall shrugs. Zayn had gotten on first, and he’s towards the back in the seat he likes, tapping away on his phone. He looks like he doesn’t want to be disturbed, all curled up with his phone hidden behind his knees, and Niall flops into the seat next to Liam instead of bothering him. Liam’s comfortable enough for cuddles.

Caroline plops Brooklyn down in his lap as she passes, headed back towards the front of the plane. “Hold this while I grab her bag, yeah,” she says, already gone, and Niall makes a face at Brooklyn. She’s fussy over the late flight and her schedule being messed up, and Niall feels vaguely sympathetic. His tummy’s a bit grumbly with nerves too, although he’s flown a hundred times on these small jets. Liam starts playing a little hand game of sorts with Brooklyn’s chubby fingers, and Niall tries to let himself be distracted by it.

Louis makes a beeline for Zayn, because if there’s anyone who can get away with bugging him when he’s feeling introverted, Louis is proud to take that crown. Instead of sitting _on_ him, he takes a gentler approach by taking the seat at his side. “Bro,” he hums, “you talking to your mum? Tell her I’m digging the new haircut. Foxy!” 

Zayn doesn’t react, other than tapping a bit harder at his phone screen. “Not my mum, bro.”

Louis sighs heavily, and then perks up a bit, tries leaning over to see for himself. Zayn forces him back with a strategic elbow. “Bro.”

Louis would make a jab, perhaps ask if Zayn’s sexting or if he’s planning something, literally anything, if Zayn didn’t look a bit like he’s seen a ghost or lost the lottery by one number. “You alright, then?”

Zayn locks his phone and tucks it into his hoodie pocket, leans his head on Louis’ shoulder. “M’ fine, just tired.”

“You slept like, all week,” Louis says. “What are you, like. Um. One of those things that hibernate?”

“What?” Zayn shakes his head. “Fuck off.”

“Nah.” Louis cuddles closer. “Seriously, what’s up? You’re being weird.”

“Louis, stop,” Zayn grunts, but doesn’t make a move to pull away, even lets Louis grab his hand. It’s warm against Zayn’s own chilly fingers. After a moment, he sighs, “Loads of animals hibernate, idiot.”

“Okay,” Louis nods, and doesn’t speak again until after they’ve taken off. There’s something to be said about the way he watches Liam and Niall and Brook play without leaving Zayn’s side to join them, and he hopes Zayn will appreciate it, even in an abstract sort of way. A gesture’s a gesture, and Louis is great at them.

Louis takes a deep, steadying breath before reminding Zayn, gently, “You know I’m here if there’s something bothering you, mate.”

“Perrie called off the engagement,” Zayn says, very quietly, and it takes Louis a second to realize he took the bait so quickly. Before he can find something to say, Zayn continues, “Didn’t wanna start off the tour on a bad note so didn’t say anything. It was kind of inevitable, I guess, but like. Dunno.”

Louis schools his face into something neutral; the last thing Zayn needs is to feel guilty for not telling his best fucking friend his fiancée dumped him. “Bro,” he mutters, and holds Zayn closer, kisses his hair. “Fuck.”

“Don’t tell the others or anything,” Zayn’s quick to add, squeezing Louis’ hand. “I’ll do it, ‘m not holding it back or whatever. I just didn’t wanna ruin the first leg of tour for everyone, y’know?”

“It’s almost been a whole month,” Louis frowns, the closest he’ll get to reprimanding Zayn right now. “Glad you told me, though. Fuck. Once we get to Japan we’re gonna have an amazing time, Zaynie. We can get robots and stuff, it’ll be cool. I’ve got your back, bro.”

Zayn nods, slowly. “I know. Fuck, I’m just, like. Really tired of it all.” He tucks his chin over Louis’ shoulder. “Be nice to hibernate, like you said.”

“Well,” Louis says. “Animals hibernate together, right? Least we could do is give you a bit of a cuddle while you nap.” 

“Thanks, bro,” Zayn smiles, tiny and subdued. “Love you.”

;

“I can’t believe you got a separate flight, mate,” Niall says, first thing as he sees Harry spooning some sort of small jelly-looking balls onto his oats in the morning. 

Harry waves at him with his spoon. “Morning. Do you want some strawberries? I got too many and don’t have room for this— um. I’m not sure what it is, actually, only I wanted to try some.”

Niall frowns. “Fine, give ‘em here.” He holds his own bowl out so Harry can scoop the offending berries off. “Honestly though.”

“It’s not a big deal, is it?” Harry shrugs. “Just a quick overnight flight, Niall. Besides, it helps with crowd control at the airport.”

“Don’t be a knobhead, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Niall pops a strawberry in his mouth testily. They’re very sweet, like they put something in them here to make them taste like strawberry candies instead of actual fruit. Everything tastes a little weird when they’re so far from home. “It would’ve been fine with you there, too.”

“It’s in the past,” Harry says airily. “We’re all going to dinner tonight like you said. I made sure we could sit on the floor at the place we’re going. You’re very welcome.”

“Thank you,” Niall says, begrudgingly, because Bobby taught him well, or at least tried. He settles on the arm of a nearby chair and watches Harry putter around the breakfast bar for another five minutes.

The other boys trickle in slowly for their morning briefing, Louis attached to Zayn’s hip, both still in their pajamas, and a freshly-showered Liam with damp hair and a crinkly-eyed smile.

They’re doing interviews at the hotel all day, split into two groups for a few five-minute stints and then all together for a few more high-profile TV features. Interview days mean increasingly silly answers to questions as cabin fever intensifies, and their publicist nearly begs them not to be assholes to the interviewers, even with the language barrier, and even if they have to wait for an interpreter to translate everything. It’s far from the best part of their job, especially when they could be exploring Osaka.

By the time they’re trundled into cars for dinner, they all feel as tired as Zayn looks. 

“Is it one of them where we have to take our shoes off?” Liam asks no one in particular, once they’re settled into a passenger van and on their way.

“And sit on the floor, like Niall requested,” Harry nods, waggling his brows at Liam in the seat behind him and patting Niall’s thigh next to him.

“Hope Tommo wore socks,” Liam grins, hands coming up to his chest immediately to preemptively defend himself from a nipple twist. 

Louis smacks him on the side of the head instead, and then his hand lingers, settling on Liam’s shoulder just to make him twitch. “My feet are a _gift_ , Liam, what are you going on about? Scared of me toes, now?”

“The smell gives him character,” Niall points out, turning his whole body in his seat to look at the three boys sitting in the back.

“Character of stinkiness,” Zayn mutters, smiling a little.

Despite their collective exhaustion, something about the hostess’ polite demeanor once they arrive at the restaurant subdues them. They bow before her, and take off their shoes and arrange them neatly at the edge of their private dining room, Harry muttering an _arigato gozaimasu_.

Most of the team stayed back at the hotel, but as the boys settle on their cushions, Alberto nudges Preston with an elbow. “Ought to hire that lady, they’re being so proper. Christ.”

“We can hear you,” Liam says, matter-of-factly. 

“Good,” Preston says, and gives them all a sunny grin as he and Alberto retreat to the main dining area.

“This is romantic,” Louis says, glancing around at the wide windows overlooking the city, the gauzy curtains and the tapestries on the opposite wall by the door. “I’m impressed, Harold, you didn’t forget _everything_ I taught you, after all.”

“I know how to wine and dine people,” Harry says, looking somewhat affronted.

“Picked a good place, Haz,” Zayn nods, examining the lacquered tabletop, tracing the cherry blossoms along the edge. 

“Okay, but about that wining and dining,” Niall says, just as the door opens, and he shuts his mouth quickly. Liam laughs.

The interpreter introduces them to their hostess and explains the practice of the _o-shibori_ , and practices pronouncing _itadakimasu_ with them. Harry delights in being the only one to remember what it means from the last time they were in Japan, and Louis gives him a dead arm for it.

They all manage to maintain their manners through the serving of the first course, but as soon as the door closes behind their hostess, Louis is lobbing a dumpling straight into Liam’s lap.

“Hey!” Liam grumbles, trying to scoop dumpling off his jeans as Niall cackles. “Do you reckon it’s alright to eat it still?”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “I dunno, what have you got on your trousers, Liam?” 

“You never know when it comes to Liam,” Harry shrugs. Even though there’s only a few inches between the bowl in his hand and his mouth, a clump of rice still ends up falling off his chopsticks and between his crossed legs.

“Don’t you eat loads of sushi in Malibu, Haz?” Niall asks, like he has any room to tease people about their skills with chopsticks.

“Actually, Niall, I eat a lot of salads in Malibu, thank you.” Harry wipes a grain of rice off his upper lip. “There’s a really nice little cafe about ten minutes from my house by bike, and they have this quinoa salad with cranberries that’s quite delicious.” 

“Keen-what?” asks Liam. 

“Pretty sure it’s a grain of some sort,” Louis says, with the long-suffering voice of a man whose significant other has introduced exactly that sort of grain into his life in the not so distant past. “Eleanor made me try this casserole with it in the other day.”

“It is a grain,” Harry nods, pleased. “It’s very small, like cous cous sort of? But it tastes different; it’s a little nuttier, I always think. They grow it in South America, but you have to be, like, careful that it’s ethically sourced, because there can be a lot of, um, harmful farming practices.”

“I feel like we’ve all learnt so much, now, Harold, thank you,” Louis rolls his eyes. He smiles as he pokes a bit of fish in one of his bowls, though, and then offers it to Zayn. “Think me’n Zayn are getting robots tomorrow before the show. I want a drone I can fly out over the crowd, that’d be _sick_.”

“With like, a camera on it?” Zayn grins, picking the bit of fish out of Louis’ bowl and popping it in his mouth.

“Fuck,” Louis says. “That would be _so_ sick.”

Niall glances at Harry, who’s too busy taking a picture of the careful rows of rice grains on his plate to notice, and then at Liam, who makes a face at him. “What if we all went, lads?”

“I want a robot,” Liam nods, smiles brightly at Niall. “Good idea.”

Louis shoots Liam a wary look. “You trying to take over our bro date, Liam?”

“Yep,” Liam says. “We can have a band date!”

Zayn shrugs. “I guess. We just figured, like, you’d have other plans. You don’t have to… work out, or anything?” 

“I mean, I guess I could,” Liam frowns, miso bowl in hand. “We don’t all have to go if you really don’t want us to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Louis snaps, flicks something pickled at Liam. “We’re all going. It’s a band date.”

“Okay,” Liam says, picking off the bit of vegetable and smearing it on Louis’ sleeve. “It’s a date.”

Niall grins into his miso bowl, and spills broth all down his shirt. 

;

The crowd is roaring, some sixty feet away, beyond barriers and stage and curtains and the thin half-wall that’s supposed to give the illusion of privacy to the space where the boys have their quick changes. The noise keeps throbbing in Niall’s pulse: the reverberations shake through the floor and the soles of his trainers and up through his bloodstream to pound in his head. It’s mad, and he loves it. It’s hot backstage, worse than it’ll be on stage, probably, because at least then there’ll be open air. Back here it’s stifled and every room feels cramped. Niall shifts from heel to heel, fidgets with his sleeve as someone adjusts the wiring for his mic pack. 

He flinches when there’s an arm flung around his neck, but it’s only Louis, pulling him in close and rubbing his nose through the hair above Niall’s ear. “We’re gonna kill it.”

“Yeah we are,” Niall agrees. He licks his lips and tastes the last remains of mint from where he brushed his teeth ten minutes ago. 

“Alright, lads,” comes Harry’s voice, and then Liam’s grabbing Louis’ shoulder and Harry’s grabbing his and Zayn comes up behind them and tucks himself between Harry and Niall. Louis counts them off, and they shove their hands in, jostling for position. 

“I’m glad we all went today,” Niall says, when they’re breaking apart, and Zayn is peering in the mirror one last time to check his fringe. 

Liam brushes past him and gives Niall a kiss on the forehead. “Me too, mate, that was sick.”

“Alright, alright,” Louis says, “break it up, lads! We’ll have time for your romantic gestures later, Payno.” 

“Oh, are we having an orgy?” Harry looks up quickly from zipping his boot. “I kind of thought that’s where we were headed, but I wasn’t quite sure. It has been rather a while, hasn’t it?” 

“For god’s sake, Harold,” Louis says, finally, into the silence that has accompanied Harry’s ruminations. “We’re not going to discuss this _as we go onstage._ ”

“But we’re going to discuss it later?” Niall chimes in, covering the mic on his headset just in case, guitar already strapped over his shoulder and slung low.

“Later,” Louis concedes, just as the last few notes of their intro music play.

;

“Now is later,” Harry observes sagely, mopping his brow with Liam’s discarded pocket kerchief as they clamber into the back of one of the large SUVs behind the venue. The show has been over for twenty minutes and the noise from the stadium is still deafening, the thousands of fans still screaming for them. It’s heady, and now that they’re off stage, more than a little exhausting. 

Louis shoots him an exasperated glance, already tucked in the back seat with Zayn at his side, curled up in a large sweatshirt over his stage clothes. “Now is now, you weirdo,” he says. It takes him a moment to catch on, takes Liam turning to Harry and saying, “Oh, but you meant— like, to talk about the thing.” 

Harry nods placidly, and sips loudly from his thermos. Louis hopes he doesn’t have tea, because that’s cruel and ridiculous. He makes grabby hands for it anyway, and Harry passes it back easily enough.

It should’ve been a warning. Louis chokes on some weird lemony warm water mixture, and thrusts the bottle back at Harry, spilling a good bit over Liam’s shoulder in his haste. “What _is_ that shit?” 

Harry shrugs, and takes another slow, indulgent sip. “Lemon ginseng with a bit of, like, star anise.” 

“Star— what the fuck, Harold.” Louis blows a raspberry into Zayn’s hoodie to get the taste out of his mouth. “It’s heinous.” 

“It’s tea,” Harry grins, with a look in his eyes like he was _hoping_ he could mortally offend Louis tonight.

“It _is_ later,” Niall tries to move the conversation along, knowing Louis and Harry have a tendency to get stuck. “Do we wanna go back to one of our rooms, when we get back?”

“I vote Liam’s,” Louis calls out, tucked into Zayn’s side. “Zayn votes Liam’s too.”

“Are we gonna talk?” Liam asks cautiously, snatching his kerchief back from Harry. It’s expensive, he thinks, vaguely, but he gave up on keeping his expensive things clean with bandmates around.

“We’re just gonna watch a movie, Li,” Zayn waggles his brows, sharing a knowing look with Louis.

“A sexy movie,” Louis says, in his best Zayn impersonation, jostling Zayn’s shoulder. 

“Are we gonna watch porn like last year in Canada, ‘cause that was a bit weird,” Liam recollects. “Like, that porn was a bit weird, if I’m honest.” 

“It’s not any of our faults you’re so vanilla, Liam Payne,” Louis points out. It wasn’t even _that_ weird. They all got off on it.

“Am not,” Liam frowns; his eyes widen just as quick. “Wait.”

Louis grins. “Great! I’ll grab some toys when we get in, then.”

;

They all stop by their rooms before going to Liam’s, once they arrive at the hotel. Louis takes an extra few minutes to check Twitter, just to make Liam twitch.

Niall showers, feeling a little jumpy himself, not liking how the sweat of the concert sits under his clothes and has gone clammy. He fiddles through all of the clothes in his suitcase trying to find a medium between nice and clean and comfortable, and ends up laughing at himself a little in the hotel room mirror. 

He gets to Liam’s second, after Harry, and when Zayn pads in he’s wearing a pair of Niall’s sweats that had gone missing before the tour even began.

“It’s too early in the tour to already be running out of clean clothes,” Niall laughs, welcoming Zayn with open arms. They’re piled up on Liam’s bed, Liam in the middle, with Harry tucked up against his side and making his noodly limbs as small as he can. Niall’s taken the other side, and now Zayn cuddles up to him, half-wedged in between Niall and Liam’s legs.

“Send ‘em with room service or sommat,” Zayn murmurs, snuffling against the collar of Niall’s soft worn tee shirt. “We’re here two more nights, yeah babe?”

Niall shrugs, shifting Zayn’s face deeper into his neck. “Won’t matter if you keep stealing my shit.” 

“You can have some of mine if you need to,” Liam offers. “I’ve still got a few pairs of clean pants, even.”

“You want Niall to wear your pants? That doesn’t sound so vanilla after all, Leemo!” Louis didn’t bother knocking, must have gotten the keycard from Alberto, and he bounds across the room to plant across Liam and Zayn’s legs. 

“Oh, he’s a kinkster, Liam is,” Harry looks up from his phone, bumps Liam’s shoulder with his. “He’s trying to play it cool, but secretly he’s into leather. Leather Daddy Direction.”

“Be kinkier if they were girls’ underwear, wouldn’t it?” Niall wonders, and then can’t look at any of them.

“We’re already learning so much about ourselves tonight,” Louis grins, tracing nonsense patterns on Zayn’s leg with his fingertips. He’s treading on thin ice; he has weird kinks of his own, and if all four of his bandmates put their heads together they could easily list most of them.

“It’s what we came here to do,” Niall shrugs. “I mean, isn’t it?”

“Dunno what you came to do,” Harry grins, “But I came to do some _body_.” He rolls onto his back and thrusts his hips in the air, one, two, three, with a wide grin. 

“Nobody touch him, oh my _god_ ,” Louis rolls his eyes, raising his voice above the sound of Niall and Zayn laughing so hard their eyes water.

“That was really terrible, Haz,” Liam nods, but he’s giggling, which totally defeats the purpose. 

It’s an ice-breaker, as if they needed it, and when Liam looks back at Niall and Zayn, they’re kissing more than laughing. “What,” he says incredulously, “hold on, lads, when did— what— nobody said we were starting already!”

“Nobody said we _weren’t_ starting,” Niall says in between kisses, and Zayn moves across his jaw, leaves a trail of little pecks all the way to his neck. “That _tickles_ , hey!”

Zayn sucks a last wet kiss just beneath Niall’s jaw, at his pulse, and crawls across Niall’s legs to straddle Liam’s lap. “Are you jealous, Leeyum?”

“A little bit,” Liam pouts, hands finding Zayn’s narrow waist. It’s been a while since they’ve done more than kissing, usually in passing, a _good luck_ or a _thank you_ or a _you were on tonight_. Zayn licks his lips, and leans in slowly. 

“This is hardly fair,” Louis objects, loud and all-too-close. “You’ve already got to kiss one of us, Zayn.”

“Don’t act like you don’t spend all your downtime on bus one snogging his face off, Tommo,” Niall calls him out. “And other things, I’m sure, like—”

Louis crawls up the bed and shuts Niall up with a kiss, which is a win for everyone. Except for Harry, of course, who’s still mostly glued to Liam’s side. At least he’s getting a close-up view of the way Zayn nibbles at Liam’s plush lower lip, flashes of pearly teeth and his pink tongue soothing the sting immediately after.

“So we _are_ doing it,” Harry drawls, setting his phone on the nightstand. Off to the side, Niall groans a little against Louis’ mouth; Harry won’t take it to heart, not when he knows the way Louis can be a ruthless kisser, like he’s trying to eat you instead of kiss you. It’s a lot nicer in practice than it sounds.

Zayn backs off Liam’s lap and beckons Harry in closer, runs his hands across Harry’s shoulders and down his biceps, holds him at the elbows to kiss him, finally. “Problem?”

“Nah,” Harry grins, drawing Zayn in with a hand at the back of his neck, “I’m good.”

It’s Liam’s turn to watch, at least until Niall breaks away from Louis’ mouth, gasping, and Louis senses fresh prey. He scoots across the mattress and settles himself heavily in Liam’s lap, shimmies a bit to make sure he’s nice and comfortable, and that Liam’s nice and uncomfortable, at least as far as the semi down the leg of his sweats can prove.

Niall crawls over and sneaks beneath Zayn’s arm, tucks himself up against Zayn’s side and rests his head on Zayn’s shoulder. He watches as Zayn and Harry kiss with a slightly dazed expression, but doesn’t interrupt. He seems placidly content just observing, his fingers curling thoughtlessly in the folds of his sweatpants. 

It’s not until Liam moans into Louis’ mouth, a sweet sound of defeat, that Zayn and Harry break away from each other, laughing breathlessly. Zayn’s cock tents the front of Niall’s sweatpants and Niall reaches for it without second thought, palming the head through the jersey fabric. “Hey,” Harry frowns, until Niall touches him too, hand on the inside of his thigh, exposed in his running shorts.

Harry reaches out a hand blindly to his side, sort of aiming for Liam’s crotch but landing on Louis’ thigh. He takes it as an opportunity. “Are you gonna have a problem with being around my cock again if it’s for the good of the band?”

Louis holds up a finger and intends to keep kissing Liam, but Liam’s smiling too much to kiss. “It _is_ a great hardship, thanks for asking,” Louis says. He can’t meet Harry’s eyes; eye contact means game over, even now.

“Hardship, ha,” Liam laughs, and Harry’s hand sneaks down to give his cock a firm squeeze.

“So charitable,” Niall’s grinning, too. Louis thinks his entire band may be out of their goddamned minds, if the way Zayn’s smiling, too, is anything to go by.

“You’re all out of your goddamned minds,” Louis lets them know, and leans over, still in Liam’s lap, to tug Harry by the hair into a kiss.

“Fuck,” Niall says, after a moment, more than a little reverent, his hand going still on Zayn’s cock. 

Louis pulls back and wipes his hand across his mouth, clears his throat pointedly. “There you go, then, stop your gawking, Niall.” 

Harry's got a familiar, dazed look on his face, the sort he gets after he's been dared to do something stupid. Zayn takes it upon himself to lean forward and kiss it off, licking into Harry’s mouth, almost like he’s chasing the taste of Louis on his tongue.

Louis watches for a moment, and then scoffs. “God, your technique’s sloppy, Styles. Poor Zayn’s about to drown.” He tugs on Zayn’s wrist, until Zayn breaks away from Harry’s mouth and turns to Louis. “Watch and learn.” 

Zayn doesn’t seem too bothered to be commandeered for the exhibition, and Louis is gratified to get a moan out of him as he nibbles his lip. He moans himself, because it’s a nice kiss, and he’s never claimed not to be a show-off. 

Harry laughs. In the midst of their little game, Niall has peeled himself away from Zayn’s side and crawled over to Liam, still stuck half under Louis. Niall gives Liam a quick peck on the lips, then leans in to whisper in his ear, casual as ever, “Think you could fuck me? It’s been a while.”

Louis breaks away from Zayn to glare at Liam. “Do you have a snake in there? I definitely felt that.”

“Not my fault you sat on me and then ignored me,” Liam blushes a lovely shade of red. “Nialler came to love me.”

Louis manages to look affronted for half a second before he’s distracted by how Zayn is once again kissing Harry. He’d complain about this new outrage, but it’s an awfully pretty sight. 

When Harry catches his breath, he glances over at Louis. “If Niall’s getting fucked, can’t I get fucked too?”

“Never said you couldn’t,” Zayn points out, a little too quickly, but Louis shakes his head. 

“Don’t be greedy, Harold. Doesn’t Zayn look like he needs a little extra love? I think we should let him have the honor.”

“I wanna fuck Zayn,” Harry perks up, sneaks a hand under Zayn’s tee to pet his hip, thumbing over the pistol tattoo he can’t see but knows is there. “Can I fuck you?”

Zayn makes a face at Louis, but shrugs. “Yeah, mate, if you like.”

“What?” Louis says. “I’m just trying to be nice, Zaynie, don’t be ungrateful.”

“You’re not being nice, you’re being—” Zayn wrinkles his nose. “Louis.”

Still trapped under Louis, Liam has a front row view of what he’s learned to identify as Louis’ plotting face. Liam _knows_ something’s up with Zayn, picked up on how he’s just that bit extra tired and quiet, the way he usually gets later on in the tour when he’s homesick. For once, he’ll trust Louis’ judgment and not interfere; surely a fuck can’t hurt Zayn, regardless of what’s got him in a funk. “I’ll take care of Nialler and Haz can fuck Zayn. What’re you gonna do, Louis?”

“Enjoy the view,” Louis chirps brightly. “And offer critiques.”

“No bias, or anything, in your ratings, is there Tommo?” Niall looks a bit too smug.

“I have no clue what you’re on about,” Louis sniffs, poking Niall’s side where he’s a little ticklish. He then turns to Liam. “Where’s your lube, Liam Payne?”

“Same place as last time,” Liam says, slowly. He’s still several shades too flushed to look casual. “Inside pocket of my toiletries bag.”

“Good lad,” Louis grins, bites Liam’s kiss-swollen lower lip before finally clambering off him to go upturn his duffel bag. 

Harry wastes no time in pushing Zayn backwards on the bed and crawling on top of him, hands on either side of his head, kissing him deep. Niall takes Louis’ place in Liam’s lap, but he very cleverly has the foresight to help Liam and himself out of their sweats first, so when Niall grinds down on Liam there’s only cotton briefs in between.

Louis steps out of his sweatpants on his way back, pushing them off his hips with one hand, lube and condoms in the other, and wiggling them down his legs with each step. “Not wasting any time, are we?” he grumbles at the sight of _everyone_ getting on _without him_.

“Love you, Lou,” Zayn reaches a hand out, beckoning Louis over, as Harry kisses his neck.

Louis shuffles onto the bed beside Zayn and peers at Harry. “Don’t know why you look so smug.” 

“Just happy,” Harry says, sweetly, and leans up on his elbow to press his mouth against Louis’.

“Ugh,” Liam says, “I always forget how sticky lube is, it’s all _gunky_.” He holds out his wet hand, apparently for sympathy. 

“It’s very gross, babe,” Zayn agrees gently. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s lube, get over it Payno. Niall’s not getting any younger.”

“Ouch,” Niall frowns, but clambers off Liam’s lap and sprawls next to Zayn. There’s a wet spot on his briefs where his cockhead rests on his hip, and without giving it a second thought, Liam leans down to kiss it.

Niall giggles, and pushes his hips up, rubbing against Liam’s face until Liam’s laughing too. “Beard’s tickly,” Niall says, when Louis gives him a look. “Feels funny.”

“I like Liam’s beard,” Zayn says, craning his neck to watch around Harry’s shoulder. 

“It’s very manly,” Harry agrees, turning to look himself.

“Yes, yes,” Louis huffs, “Very manly and all, caveman Payne, but Niall got dibs early tonight so you two can admire my equally impressive scruff any time now.”

“You’re manly too, Louis,” Zayn sighs indulgently. “So beardy and manly. C’mere, kiss me.”

Louis can’t really object to that. He nearly bumps his head against Harry’s, which has _definitely_ happened before with this many people on the same bed, but he manages to scoot down in between Zayn and Niall and lean half over Zayn for a snog. Kissing Zayn is as familiar as playing footie or going onstage by now, easy as anything, and Zayn makes a happy sound into his mouth, reaches up to slip his hand into Louis’ hair. 

Louis manages to forget how close Harry is until Zayn leans back into the pillow for a breath and Harry immediately takes his place, big hand curling around the back of Louis’ neck and licking into his mouth. It’s enough to make Louis breathless, too, and he has to pull away. Zayn is watching them too carefully, anyway. Louis clears his throat. “Pass the lube, would you, Payno?”

“I’ve not even _used_ it,” Liam frowns, but he hands it off all the same. “I was taking my time. Niall’s special.”

“I _am_ special but I’m not delicate, and if you don’t take my pants off in the next like, thirty seconds, I think my cock might suffocate,” Niall warns. “Please,” he tacks on at the end.

“Let me just say, I’m really turned on by bossy Niall,” Harry grins. For some inexplicable reason he’s wearing the most clothes out of all of them, which just won’t do; he kisses Zayn’s cheek and then moves off him to the other end of the bed.

Louis helps Zayn pull his sweats down his hips and off one ankle before he grabs for the lube. Zayn kicks at his hip when Louis doesn’t look away as he gets his pants off, but Louis just grins, squirting a generous dollop of lube into his palm and sliding his fingers through it to warm it up. 

Harry’s still hopping around on one foot at the end of the bed taking off his socks, and Louis isn’t going to wait on him to start. He gives Zayn’s hip a tap and Zayn rolls over onto his front, propping his chin up on his crossed arms and looking over at Niall. “Guess we got the _bottom_ end of the deal, yeah?”

Niall laughs, and reaches over to ruffle Zayn’s fringe. It’s grown out almost to his shoulders now, the long bits at the top in artful waves when he doesn’t keep it in a bun, which means Niall ends up tugging it more than anything. “Not complaining, mate.”

“Can’t help but feel like that was Harry’s line,” Liam laughs, finally getting Niall’s pants all the way off. Niall’s cock is flushed and pretty, and Liam gets a sudden urge to give it a kiss, so he ducks down and presses his lips to the vein on the side. Niall’s skin always tastes lovely, warm and boyish and with a hint of sweat, even when he’s freshly showered.

“Zayn and Louis may be partners in crime, but Zayn and I are partners in puns,” Harry says, and then lights up. “Pun partners! Punters?”

Zayn smiles apologetically. “Pretty sure that means something else entirely, Haz.”

“Yeah, Harry, get it together,” Louis teases, circling the tip of his middle finger against Zayn’s hole. He takes a glimpse at Harry, but really _looks_ after a moment, eyes scanning down. “Have you somehow got bigger? Please don’t poke someone’s eye out with that. Menace.”

Harry glances downwards and shrugs, then does a little shimmy. “D’you think so?”

Zayn snorts, and Louis slaps his thigh with his free, mostly clean hand.

“Guess Zayn’ll let us all know,” Louis smirks, pushing his middle finger in in one slow, smooth motion. “Right, Zayn?”

Just as Louis expected, Zayn just moans, arching his back to shove his arse back at Louis. Zayn looks at Niall at his side, who’s chewing on his lip and breathing heavily through his nose, rolling his hips down on Liam’s first finger, too.

“Can I _do_ something? Some _one_?” Harry pouts, wrapping a hand loosely around his dick. “I feel a little left out.”

“You can sit there and look pretty,” Louis offers, drizzling a bit more lube over the crack of Zayn’s arse and around his finger. He grins at Zayn’s indignant squeak and Liam reaches over to shove at his shoulder. 

“Don’t be mean, Lou.” 

“What?” Louis laughs. “You’ll have to be more specific, Payno. Who should I not be mean to? Pretty sure Harry’s into that sort of shit.”

While Louis wasn’t looking, Harry found his way back on the bed, scooting up on his knees right behind him. “I think you should be nice,” he hums, big hands coming up Louis’ sides and making him squirm. “We came here to have a nice time. I know I did,” Harry shrugs, and he’s plastered his whole front to Louis’ back, the bastard, breathing right down his neck, dropping a kiss at the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“Charmingly creepy as always,” Louis huffs, curling his finger inside Zayn, sliding it out to add a second.

“Louis,” Zayn warns, his leg twitching, feet moving restlessly in the sheets. 

“‘m being careful,” Louis says. “God, all of you, so whiny tonight. Except for Niall, he’s been lovely. Shall we trade, Liam?”

Niall leans up on his forearms and frowns at Liam. “Not sure I’m alright with that, actually—”

Zayn giggles, leaning up on his own elbows, glancing over at Niall. It shows off the obscene curve of his spine, the delicate arches of his hips, and Harry makes an appreciative noise, watching with his chin hooked over Louis’ shoulder. “Size queen Nialler.”

“Can’t help it, I just love Liam,” Niall grins, reaches a hand down to pet his hair. 

Liam hums in appreciation, leans down to kiss Niall’s cock again, like he can’t help it. “Is it okay if I like, use my mouth a bit? It’s okay if you think you’ll come too fast. I won’t be offended or anything.”

Niall’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “What kinda question is that?” Harry laughs, making a face over Louis’ shoulder. “Jesus, Liam, have you looked at your mouth at all lately?”

“Obscene,” Zayn murmurs, settling back down onto his forearms, but still watching Niall’s face.

Liam is flushed dark pink up his cheekbones, his ears nearly crimson. He shuffles further down the mattress between Niall’s legs and sliding his arms under Niall’s pale thighs to spread them wide enough to nuzzle between.

“Wait,” Niall bites his lip, cranes his neck to look down at where Liam’s pushing his legs up, almost folds in half to have a good look. “I totally just thought you were gonna suck me off, fuck, are you—”

Liam pokes his head up from between Niall’s legs. His cheeks turn pinker, if at all possible. “I meant like...” He tips his head, shrugs. “Like, oral, I guess?”

“ _Rimming_ ,” Zayn grins, looks over his shoulder at Liam. “You mean rimming.”

“I mean, that’s fine,” Niall says, looking a bit flushed himself. “I just wasn’t like, expecting that.”

Harry reaches around Louis to palm Zayn’s ass, spreading him a little wider around the tips of Louis’ fingers. “I could do you, Zayn.” 

“No, you couldn’t,” Louis insists, “because you’d take forever, and then we wouldn’t get anything done.” 

“We’d get _plenty_ done,” Harry sighs. “You just want him all to yourself.” He doesn’t quite manage to sound upset about it, just mildly amused, probably because he’s already got his pants pulled down so the elastic’s beneath his balls, and he’s stroking his cock up against the small of Louis’ back.

“Like you’re not just going to take turns,” Zayn rolls his eyes.

Niall makes a small choking noise that draws all three of them back to watch as Liam holds his legs wider and presses his face in. They can’t see anything, really, but Niall’s thighs are trembling, and his stomach has gone clenched, breathing hard. Liam leans back just enough to take a deep breath, and Niall whimpers, reaches down to yank at the little bit of hair in the front that Liam’s grown out.

“Don’t you fuckin’ stop,” Niall says, “Do that again, shit.”

Harry whines against Louis’ throat, and Louis swallows, hard. 

“Hurry up and fuck me,” Zayn says, sounding strained. “Fuck, Louis, c’mon.”

“I’m going first,” Harry grunts, bites Louis’ shoulder. “Lou, he’s ready.”

“I’m not being held accountable if Harry’s ridiculously large cock hurts you, Zayn,” Louis huffs, pushes his fingers in to the knuckles and twists them before finally drawing them out. Behind him, Harry fumbles a condom out of the box, tears the foil carefully and rolls it on with his lip between his teeth and a squirt of lube in his palm.

“I’m sure I’ll live,” Zayn sighs, rolling over onto his back and scooting closer to Niall, who’s got a pretty flush high on his cheekbones and a dazed look in his eyes. Zayn offers Niall a gentle smile, raises a hand to poke each of his nipples and then his bellybutton, and Niall giggles, gasps at the feeling of Liam nudging the tip of his tongue inside him next to his fingers.

Liam’s actually rather proud of himself, of the way Niall can’t seem to hold completely still, legs twitching and thighs clenching at each swipe of Liam’s tongue. He’s only done this once before, for Louis, because Louis could get Liam to do virtually anything under the sun. Liam didn’t know he’d think about it so much since, but he didn’t have the guts to do it with anyone but the lads. It’s reassuring, seeing and feeling Niall enjoy it so much; fills Liam with a different kind of satisfaction, mixed in with arousal but distinctly different, mellower somehow. He’s always liked feeling useful and wanted, always loved taking care of his boys.

Niall pulls at his hair after some indeterminable moment: Liam leans up, blinking, licking his lips. It feels like he’s been underwater, so concentrated he lost track of his other senses. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Louis and Harry switching places with a nudge of shoulders, and in a matter of seconds Zayn is moaning, soft, sweet sounds that Harry wrings out of him, and Liam swallows hard. Louis’ sitting back on his heels and wanking himself slowly, his cock dark pink between his fingers. Niall says something—

“What?” Liam shakes his head a little, sheepishly.

“Wanna ride you, I think,” Niall says, but he looks like he’s already thought about it, and decided. 

“I’d quite like to see that, Nialler,” Louis chimes in, nodding approvingly. 

“I mean, _yes_ ,” Liam grins, feeling his cheeks heat. God, yes. “Should I like, take your spot?”

Niall gives him a quick nod and rolls over, sits up on his knees, rubbing over the fading scar running down his left kneecap. As Liam lies down next to Zayn, sheets still warm from Niall writhing against them, Louis scoots over and pets Niall’s hip. “Is your knee gonna be alright? You don’t have to if it hurts, Liam won’t mind.”

Liam frowns, stills in the midst of rolling a condom on. “‘Course I won’t mind, Nialler. Just let me know, okay? We don’t have to—”

“I know,” Niall laughs, breathless and feeling so loved, so well taken care of. He straddles Liam’s lap, carefully settling his knees on the bed. “I’ll let you know if it doesn’t work out, alright?”

Liam glances at Louis, and Louis shrugs. 

“Alright?” Niall has Liam’s cock in his hand, is thumbing at the vein just beneath the head, and Liam nods so hard his head spins.

Niall’s still laughing as he sits down on Liam’s dick.

“Hey,” Zayn looks over at Niall and gives him a lazy smile. Harry’s fucking him hard enough that Zayn shifts down the bed on every other thrust, but Harry’s attentive enough that when it looks like Zayn’s head might go off the edge of the bed he drags him back down on his cock by the hips. Zayn’ll probably bruise, and unlike how Louis perhaps would, he won’t even pretend to dislike the reminder of Harry’s fingertips branded on his hips.

“‘s it good?” Niall asks, as if he can’t tell, words as teasing as his slow grinds on the head of Liam’s cock.

“Fuck you,” Zayn smiles, sweet, and reaches out to hold Niall’s hand.

Liam is staring at their entwined fingers when Niall sinks down for real, so sudden he gasps, chest and shoulders coming off the bed on instinct at the shock. 

“Whoa there, Liam,” Louis laughs. “I feel someone should make a cowgirl joke.”

Harry raises his head, eyebrows bunched, small smile in the dimples either side of his mouth. “Long ride ahead?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “A good joke, please, Harold.”

The smile spreads across Harry’s whole face. “Hope it lasts longer than eight seconds!”

“Oh my god,” Zayn moans. “I can’t believe I have your dick up my arse.”

“Yep,” Harry keeps grinning, presses his hips flush against the back of Zayn’s thighs and grinds nice and slow into his arse. “You love me,” he grits out, moving a hand up Zayn’s skinny chest, tracing over lean muscle and dark ink.

Zayn’s eyes fall closed and he bites his lip, fists his hands in the sheets. In the end, a few seconds later, he nods all the same. “C’mon, Haz, fuck.”

Niall speeds up his rhythm watching theirs, hands spread out on Liam’s chest as he works his hips, getting used to the feeling. His knee is twinging, worse and sooner than he’d hoped it would. Liam, though, feels so good beneath his fingers, under his thighs, inside, and it’s heady, makes Niall work through the pain until he can’t ignore it. He leans back, off his knee onto one side. 

Liam whimpers, touching his thighs. “Why’re you stopping, don’t stop—”

“Just— piece of shit bum knee,” Niall sighs, settling a hand on the mattress beside Liam to hold himself up, off the offending joint.

Louis, who had moved to sit back against the headboard, swoops in immediately, clucky as ever. “C’mere, off you get,” he grumbles, hands coming up under Niall’s armpits to haul him off of Liam and letting him flop against Louis’ chest. Even though they’re both a little sweaty, and Louis’ cock is trapped against the small of Niall’s back, Louis holds Niall close, pets his sides. Even Harry has slowed down, off to the side; all eyes are on Niall. “Does it hurt too much?”

“I’ll be fine,” Niall huffs, bends his knee experimentally. It’s been a while since it’s given him this much trouble, but then again, it’s been a while since they all shared a bed like this. “Just... can’t keep riding Li if you want me to go onstage anytime soon.”

“No more bad riding jokes from Harry, how shall we ever manage?” Louis kisses the side of Niall’s head. “Don’t be silly, Niall. Think of the fans!”

Niall flushes, and in trying to look away, looks straight at Zayn. Zayn, who’s looking straight at Niall’s traitorous, twitching dick. It makes Niall turn even hotter red. Zayn doesn’t say anything, just smiles at Niall, and Niall can’t decide if that’s better than the alternative. 

Liam’s sat up at the end of the bed, legs still outstretched and hand around his dick, squeezing around the base without stroking to keep the condom in place. “D’you want me again, Niall? Don’t want you to get hurt, but like.” He tips his chin down towards his dick minutely, gives him an embarrassed smile.

“Don’t be daft, Payno, course I want you again.” Niall wiggles a bit, hips shimmying to show off his plump dick, as pink as his cheeks. “Could do like this, I reckon. Louis’ pretty comfy.”

“Liam’s quite athletic, I’m sure he can swing it,” Louis adds, raising an eyebrow at Liam. “Can’t you, mate?”

Liam nods before he’s aware of meaning to, finds himself shuffling in between Niall’s spread legs for what feels like the thousandth time that night to his heavy cock. It’s still nothing like a burden.

“Back in business,” Harry grins, rolling his hips and angling up to make Zayn moan. “Love a bit of teamwork.”

“I’m gonna need something to do with my hands now I’ve lost access to my cock,” Louis frowns, tweaks one of Niall’s nipples. “Hurry up and kiss me, Liam.”

“D’you kiss with your hands now, Louis?” Harry’s got sweat glistening across his forehead and turning his fringe into curls around his ears, but he still manages to look a bit smug.

Louis can’t think of an adequately scathing rejoinder, and so settles for flipping Harry off over Liam’s shoulder as he leans in for a kiss.

Harry just laughs, overly-loud in the hushed sex-quiet of the room. It makes Niall giggle, and with the new angle it’s so tight Liam can’t even get the head of his cock in. He lifts Niall’s legs a bit, tilting him further back against Louis’ chest. 

Niall just flops his head onto Louis’ shoulder and bites his lip, trying not to laugh harder. 

“Fuckin’ weirdos,” Zayn mutters, eyes closed, face tight. He’s chewing at his lip so hard it looks white where his teeth are digging in. 

“Hold up, are you close?” Liam asks. “That’s not remotely fair.”

“Didn’t have to switch it up,” Louis half-shrugs from behind Niall. “Besides he’s always easy for cock,” he smirks, hands wandering up Niall’s chest.

Zayn opens his eyes to slits, and cranes his neck to look up at them. “One to talk,” he says.

“I’m a bit insulted none of you are considering the option that I’m _just that good_ ,” Harry says. 

“Oh, fucking hell,” Liam hisses: he’d just managed to ease back in, and Niall’s gone tight as a vice with renewed laughter. 

Louis wipes away a perhaps not altogether imaginary tear. “Oh, Harold. Hazza. Sweet, sweet Styles.”

Harry actually stops mid-stroke to frown at them in turn, which makes it Zayn’s turn to swear. 

“God, okay, ah— _shit_ ,” Niall whines from where he’s getting lost between Louis and Liam, folded up small. Liam’s fucking him shallowly, can’t go too deep with Niall still mostly propped up against Louis’ chest. He’d _like_ to get as deep a fuck as he had when he was riding Liam, but there’s something nice about the overwhelming warmth, the smell of their intermingling sweat and Liam’s cologne, Louis’ musky aftershave, that makes the whole experience sweet and familiar. He doesn’t feel _trapped_ , like he might if it were pretty much anyone else crowding him in. He’s safe.

“I might come,” Harry says, contemplatively, glancing over at the three of them.

Louis stares right back at him. “What, do you want permission?”

Harry blinks, slowly, and drops his head back, moaning loudly as his hips stutter against Zayn’s arse, and he holds himself in deep to come. “Guess I don’t need it,” he says, voice all hoarse when it’s over. 

“Stay a bit?” Zayn rasps, reaching for a loose strand of Harry’s hair. Harry’s already begun to back off and pull out, but Zayn cups a hand behind his neck and pulls him in for a kiss, laughs when Harry bites his lips with a growl. Zayn’s not particularly fond of the weird pulling out sensation, especially when he hasn’t gotten to come yet, himself. “‘s it Lou’s turn, then?”

“You _just_ said to stay a bit,” Harry pouts.

“Meant, until he’s ready, like,” Zayn says, kisses Harry’s chin indulgently.

To the side, Louis has taken up craning his neck uncomfortably to kiss Niall’s shoulder, even though he keeps moving with each of Liam’s thrusts, sliding down Louis’ chest. It’s a matter of time until Liam thrusts with his whole body and Louis lifts his head just so, and next thing Niall knows they’re both howling in pain, Liam giggling and rubbing his forehead, Louis leaning back with a scowl.

“ _Of course_ you would,” Niall sighs, flopping in Louis’ arms. “Literally if anyone had to crack their skulls open _in bed_ , it had to be you,” he laughs.

Louis can’t for the life of him come up with anything biting to say. He might have an irreversible brain injury, might’ve lost his ability to produce snappy comebacks, all in the name of sex. Not even sex where he’s got his cock _in_ someone. It’s a travesty, really.

Zayn and Harry blink over at them. Harry’s smile blossoms over his face gradually. “I can’t believe that wasn’t me,” he says. “Oh my god. This is brilliant.”

“Fuck off, Harold,” Louis spits. He tongues at his teeth. Everything feels a bit funny. 

“You’d have to prep me first,” Harry points out. 

Louis sighs, harshly. “I didn’t even _say_ —”

Harry is still talking, or maybe he never stopped, “It’s been a while, so.” Louis glares at him. 

Liam kisses the tip of Louis’ nose gently. “I’m really sorry, Lou, are you alright? Ignore Harry, he’s just winding you up.”

“Excuse me, Liam,” Harry says, but Zayn swats at his shoulder a bit, and he falls quiet.

“That _hurt_ ,” Louis pouts. “ _And_ you scared Niall.”

“He didn’t—” Niall begins, but Louis shushes him loudly, presses a finger to his mouth, slightly off-center. They’re having A Moment. This is important.

“I’m very sorry,” Liam repeats, earnest and readily willing to take the blame, even if maybe Louis was the one who’d suddenly moved right in his way. It’s not worth arguing over.

Louis heaves a sigh, rolls his eyes fondly. “Maybe you ought to go help Zayn out, hmm? I’ll take care of Niall.”

Niall bites at the finger Louis still has smashed to his lips, but doesn’t object otherwise. 

Liam tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth and nods. His poor cock throbs a bit in protest as he pulls out, but he kisses Niall’s bent knee and helps him stretch out his legs a bit in the new space. “Where’d the condoms go?” he asks no one in particular, looking around and then focusing on Zayn. “It’s been a while, like. Wanna be safe,” he explains.

Zayn raises one eyebrow. “Ooh, sounds like Liam’s got stories he hasn’t told us, lads.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Liam waggles his brows, but his bright smile gives it away.

“Can tell me when you’re in me,” Zayn smirks, shifting a little beneath Harry.

“What kinda girl do you take him for?” Harry gives Zayn an affronted look, pets his hip. “I gotta pull out, c’mon.”

Liam pats around in the sheets for the box of condoms, and Harry discards his own, tossing it in the general direction of the bin beneath the desk but probably missing it by a mile, as he tends to do. Zayn squirms at the unpleasant emptiness, wraps a hand around his cock and strokes himself, pouting at Niall on the other side of the bed.

“Anyway, like you’re not curious too,” Zayn tells Harry, digs his skinny knee into Harry’s side as he moves away.

“I think technically it’s more about, like, whatever you and Niall’ve been up to,” Harry points out.

Zayn kicks him harder this time, catching his hip. “Niall and I are perfectly clean, thanks, mate. Liam’s dick could give us something just as easy as our arses could give him sommat.” 

“Safe sex is sexy sex, or whatever,” Louis calls out. He’s been snogging Niall’s face off, for a lack of something else to do, and because every second he spends not kissing Niall might as well be a second wasted, at this point.

“Harry’s just a romantic old sod,” Zayn murmurs as Liam cuddles in close, seemingly having given up on finding the condoms. “He only wants us to talk about each other in bed.” He draws Liam up against his chest, letting him settle between his legs and wrapping an ankle around Liam’s. Liam’s cock is pressed up against his stomach, and Zayn can’t help but squirm a bit at the feeling. 

“I am,” Harry admits. It only takes him a second of patting around in the sheets to find the condoms half beneath his knee. “Here,” he grins, tossing one underhanded in Liam and Zayn’s general direction, which bounces off Liam’s ass with the kind of precision he could only achieve on accident. Liam’s only form of reaction is to make a vaguely offended sound into Zayn’s mouth.

Niall cackles, and when Harry looks over and grins, Louis arches an eyebrow and jerks his chin at the box in Harry’s hand. “Alright, then, am I gonna fuck you, Niall?”

Niall shrugs and nods. “Yeah, can’t let Zayn get more than me, can I?”

“That’s the spirit,” Harry grins, crawls over to their side of the bed and hands Louis the box.

Louis digs another foil packet out and leaves the box on the side table. He can’t imagine they’ll have the energy for more _now_ , but there’s always later. Niall is squirming in his lap, and Louis settles his hands on Niall’s hips. “On your side, maybe? Will that hurt your knee?”

“That’d probably work, yeah,” Niall hums, rubbing his knee. It’s shit; he didn’t think it would give him this much trouble when it’s been over a year since his surgery. “Fuckin’ annoying,” he mumbles.

“It isn’t,” Louis says firmly. Harry nods in agreement at his side. “I mean, it’s shitty and a bit annoying, but it’s not your fault, and it’s gonna be good no matter what position we do it in. I’m a _great_ fuck.”

“‘s true,” Zayn agrees softly. With the way Louis has maneuvered Niall onto his side and spooned up behind him, he’s close enough to rub his nose against Niall’s in an eskimo kiss. “He’s gonna make it so great, Nialler, and I can wank you off if you like.”

Liam would protest at Zayn’s wavering attention, but he’s equally protective of Niall, and he can’t begrudge them their moment. 

Zayn cranes his neck for a proper kiss, kitten-licking at Niall’s upper lip, keeps him distracted as Louis rolls on the condom and lubes up. At Louis’ side, Liam sits on his heels and does the same, batting at Louis’ shoulder playfully and snatching the lube bottle out of Louis’ hand mid-squirt so a glob of it ends up on Niall’s leg. Harry reaches across Louis to rub it in, his blunt fingernails fluffing up Niall’s sparse leg hair. It makes goosebumps break out across his thigh, and Niall laughs breathlessly. 

“Ah, c’mon, Louis, I’m ready for you.” 

Liam glances at Zayn. “How about you, Z, do you need, like, fingers again?”

Zayn laughs. “Babe, stop stalling.”

“Am not,” Liam insists, grinning, scoots up close and pushes Zayn’s legs up, holds one of Zayn’s thighs with one hand and his cock with the other. Zayn looks like he’s about to protest again when Liam nudges forward, and he’s loose enough from Harry that Liam’s cockhead slips in easy when he’d only meant to tease. Slack-jawed and a little breathless, Zayn draws Liam in for a kiss with both hands at the back of his neck, and the movement makes more of Liam’s cock slide in.

“You two are like porn stars,” Harry sighs, off to the side. Liam doesn’t have to look to know he’s probably half-hard again, stroking his cock with that shameless grin of his. “But like, the really good porn stars, where you can tell they have real chemistry, you know? And they’re not super waxed or like, oily.”

Louis actually turns his entire upper body around to raise an eyebrow at Harry. “Oily?”

Harry makes a face. “You know, like they’ve just had a massage or sommat.”

“Um, Louis?” Niall clears his throat. Louis’ cock is currently pressed up between his arsecheeks, just the head squeezed tightly inside, and Niall is trying to be polite, but Harry can continue his weird porn star explanations later.

“Got you,” Louis assures Niall, leans in close and presses his chest to Niall’s back as he thrusts in, shallowly at first. Harry’s spooned up right behind him, breathing down Louis’ neck with only enough space between them for Louis to thrust back and forth and for Harry to wank himself, deliberately bumping Louis’ lower back with his cockhead on every other loose stroke.

Niall leans his forehead on the roundest bit of Zayn’s shoulder and braces his arm in the six inches of space between their ribs. He can’t really find leverage to work back against Louis, but Louis’ hand on his hip is guiding them both, and it’s enough. 

“You okay?” Liam checks with Zayn, who’s gone quiet, his face tilted up against Liam’s chest. Liam thinks he can feel the flutter of his eyelashes against his collarbone, but maybe it’s his imagination. 

“Getting close,” Zayn admits sheepishly, like Harry hadn’t fucked him before. Liam’s _good_ at angling in just right; Zayn can’t possibly be held responsible.

“Not far off,” Liam offers, hips stuttering as he thrusts in, holding both of Zayn’s legs up and spread, hands tucked beneath Zayn’s bent knees. “C’mon, Z.”

“You come on,” Zayn laughs, breath hitching. “God, Liam—” he shakes his head, overwhelmed. The sensation’s still on the painful side of sharp, a little raw, but it’s addictive.

“What,” Liam rasps, tightening his grip on Zayn’s calves. 

Zayn rolls his head around on the pillow, the long front tousled and fluffed up like a little bird. “You just. Feel good, is all. Fuck.”

“So eloquent,” Harry giggles, and Liam nearly startles, glancing over. Louis and Niall have gone quiet, rocking against each other, and Harry’s still pressed all along Louis’ back, watching the four of them. 

“You came,” Liam says, wonderingly, taking in the stripes of come up Niall’s heaving belly, the dark flush in his cheeks. Niall nods, eyes screwed tight shut, smile flitting across his face before his mouth drops open on a moan. Behind him, Louis echoes the moan, tucks his face into Niall’s shoulder and shudders. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, reaching up to pet Louis’ hair. “That’s it, fuck, Lou.”

Louis twists his neck and kisses Harry fiercely, a little off center and biting at first, hungry and hopeful.

“You now,” Zayn says, soft but enough to grab Liam’s attention back. “Liam, babe.”

It only takes Liam a few more thrusts, hard and deep and off-rhythm, until he’s tipping over the edge, bottoming out inside Zayn and groaning into his shoulder as he comes. He’s jittery, too much energy under his skin even now, and after stopping for a few seconds he’s moving again. He lifts himself up off the bed with one hand and brings the other between their bodies, wraps it around Zayn’s cock and strokes him in time with his thrusts. “Your turn,” he smiles, breathless, biting his lip against the sting of too much friction on his dick too soon after coming.

“Fuck,” Zayn hisses, “don’t stop, don’t— just— fuck, like that, please.” He’s so close it hurts, twisting his stomach up in knots with how bad he wants it. “‘m close, Li, Liam—” he bites at his lip, tugging it between his teeth, reaches up to pull at Liam’s hair just for something to hold onto.

Liam can’t stay away for too long, lowers himself over Zayn again to kiss him. The change in angle mid-thrust is what does it for Zayn, along with Liam’s hand tightening around his cockhead. He comes, moaning into Liam’s mouth, up Liam’s ribs and tummy and sticking to his own, wrapping his legs around Liam’s lower back to keep him close.

“See,” Harry drawls. “Porn stars.”

“Honestly,” Louis sighs, doesn’t even bother trying to make it sound anything but fond. “You gonna come again, then?”

Harry whines, “I’m _trying_ ,” and Louis takes it as his cue to bite Harry’s lower lip _hard_. Harry jerks, whimpering against Louis’ mouth, and the next thing anyone knows, Louis is groaning loudly. 

“Harold, your _spunk_ is dripping down my arse crack.”

Harry has slumped forward, face tucked against Louis’ neck, and he nods, wearily. 

Niall giggles, hesitantly and then full-bodied, turning his face into the pillow.

“We’re so weird,” Liam laughs, rolls off Zayn carefully, holding the base of the condom and scrunching his nose at the inevitable squelch. He discards the condom and stretches out, limbs feeling a little cramped; glances at Zayn, who’s watching him from half-closed eyes. Zayn grins at him, and leans his head against Liam’s shoulder, plants a kiss against his upper bicep. 

“Some of us,” Louis grouches, a stark contrast to how gently he’s petting Niall’s tummy, and the warmth in his glances at Harry.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lou,” Zayn shrugs, mellow as ever.

Liam rubs his legs restlessly against the sheets, that full-body tingle of post-sex making him savor every little sensation. He feels like he could run a marathon, but also like maybe all he wants to do is cuddle a bit more with Zayn. He rolls onto his side as Louis and Harry and Niall continue to bicker and insult each other as they rearrange themselves for sleep, and nudges his nose against Zayn’s temple. “You okay? Like, are you feeling okay?” He tries to give a meaningful glance, so Zayn knows what he means.

Zayn blinks at him. “Are you asking about my arse?”

Liam huffs. “I’m just trying to be nice, mate, you had Harry and then me and I just wondered—”

Zayn turns his head just enough so that his mouth covers Liam’s perfectly, and kisses him gently. “You donut. My arse is fine, alright? ‘m a bit sore, but it’s like. The good kind.”

“I hear ya,” Niall speaks up, scoots closer to Zayn, tucking up against his side. His cheeks are still a ruddy pink, like he’s just come offstage.

“Niall gets me, see? We’re bottom buddies.” Zayn holds out his fist for Niall to bump, and smiles when Niall tangles their fingers together after. 

“God, they’re lame,” Louis says. Harry kisses his nose, and he tries to look disapproving. 

“That was really good,” Liam says, hoping to dissuade Louis from further griping. “Like, I’m really glad we did this, lads.”

Harry nods. “I just feel like, really connected to you all right now, I don’t know. It’s really intense, like we’re all about to start reading each other’s minds or something.” 

Silence falls over the room.

Liam meets Louis’ eyes over Zayn and Niall’s tangled limbs, and Louis fails to suppress a weary smile. 

“No, really,” Harry says. “Have you ever heard of tantric sex?”

;

“Guys, I’m completely serious,” Harry whines around a mouthful of cereal. It’s a couple of weeks later, and they’re in Hong Kong, having an eat-in breakfast in Niall and Zayn’s hotel room before a day of press. “It really strengthened our bond.”

“I mean,” Liam says hesitantly, “Harry does have a bit of a point? Like, we’ve gotten along better this tour than we have in ages, like, been spending more time together and everything and it’s just. It’s really nice.”

“Aw, Liam,” Louis croons. “If you wanted more attention all you had to do was ask, baby.”

Niall kicks lightly at Louis’ shin. “Fuck off, Louis,” he says, with no heat. “It’s true, like. Hear me out, after last tour I was a bit nervous about this one, but... we’ve all made an effort, haven’t we? And I don’t think the shagging _hurt_ , either.”

Zayn’s still mostly under the covers in his bed, half trying to will someone to bring him food and half wishing he could just go back to sleep. In the end, Louis pads over with his big bowl of cereal and cuppa, offers them both to Zayn so he can climb in next to him. So maybe the bonding thing is true. “It hurt when Liam headbutted me,” Louis points out, taking his tea back but letting Zayn help himself to the cereal.

“I almost forgot that happened,” Zayn snorts.

“I didn’t,” Liam says, heavily. “Louis’ head is like a brick wall.”

“Too true,” Harry nods, pops a fruit cube in his mouth. He thinks it's some sort of melon, but he's not too sure. Even the most familiar fruit taste a bit new in Hong Kong.

"Well, I'm glad we're all bonded now, or whatever," Louis shrugs. "We've been on these past few shows, if I do say so myself. Was a bit worried with the lack of actual rehearsal time."

"Sound so responsible, Tommo," Niall grins. "Grown up old man."

"One of us has to be," Louis sniffs, takes a sip from his cup. "I'm very mature."

“The maturest,” Zayn says quietly, muffled into his spoon. 

“Exactly,” Louis nods.

Zayn snorts. “So mature you don’t even know maturest isn’t a word.”

There’s a distinct _ha!_ from under the blanket where Harry is digging for the berry he dropped.

“When’re we supposed to be ready, again?” Liam asks, stealing a bite of Niall’s toast.

Niall glances at the alarm clock on the nightstand, thumbs a bit of jam off the corner of Liam’s lips. “Crew should be coming around in fifteen or so. We’ve got like, interviews again, and I think Marco mentioned something about video messages for something. Dunno.”

“It’s an advert,” Harry mumbles, reemerging from the duvet, hair round with static. “For, uh. Something.”

Louis throws the teabag at him from his empty mug. “Thank you, Harold.”

Harry lets it bounce off his shoulder ineffectually. “You should really ask before you teabag someone, you know.”

Liam glances between them and then to where Niall is rolling nearly off the bed. “Hold on, why are you all laughing?” 

;

They’ve been divvied up for the interview bits of their schedule today, and Zayn and Louis find themselves tucked safely into the corner of a strange jelly bean-shaped sofa in one of the hotel’s many lounges while Harry, Liam and Niall are interviewed in the next room. Lou is in the opposite corner facetiming friends back in London, and Marco is propped up in an armchair by the window, but the room is big, and someone has Pandora playing on a laptop, so it’s plenty private enough for laddy whispers. 

“I don’t mean to be a pest,” Louis begins, and Zayn eyes him warily, “but you haven’t told the lads about, like, the thing yet.”

Zayn grabs for a shark gummy from the bag of pick n mix in Louis’ lap. Half of it is individually wrapped Chinese candy, but for the time being Zayn’s sticking with the familiar stuff, gummy worms and fruit shapes and sharks. The sharks are sick. “How d’you know I haven’t? I totally could’ve told them without you knowing,” he says, but he winces at how blatantly untrue it is as the words leave his mouth.

“Liam would’ve talked t’me about it,” Louis shrugs. “You know how he gets, daddy direction even after all this time.”

Zayn does know, which is sort of the point. “Yeah,” he says, making a gummy worm dance along Louis’ knee. “I guess, like, I didn’t want them to worry. With the tour just starting, y’know? I’m not like... sensitive.” 

Louis nudges Zayn’s shoulder, throws something small and cinnamon-scented at him. “You’re full of shit,” he grumbles. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

“I just haven’t had a good time for it,” Zayn insists, taking his chances with what looks like a fruit Polo but ends up being sour, like an American Lemonhead.

“We’ve practically been spending more time together than we did at the X Factor house, and we _lived in the same house_ there,” Louis presses.

Zayn rolls his eyes and looks over at Louis. “I haven’t felt ready to tell the lads, alright? Is that good enough?” He goes back to staring into the bag in Louis’ lap. “I don’t like talking about it.”

Louis’ eyes soften, and he drops his head on Zayn’s shoulder. “I’m trying to help,” he says, his version of an apology. It’s not like he has much room to talk; he’s had plenty of things happen with Harry and Eleanor that he didn’t quite rush to share with the rest of the band.

“I know,” Zayn says, instantly sweet again. “And I know I’ve got to tell them soon. I didn’t— I wasn’t sure if like, we’d. Mess about again, I guess? I didn’t want it to happen because they felt sorry for me.” He pulls at the knees of his jeans, where there are holes just starting to fray. 

“I know,” Louis repeats, and doesn’t point out that the lads _wouldn’t_ , or that Liam asked if something was up with Zayn a few nights ago in Thailand. “I’ve got your back,” he reminds Zayn, offers him the closest thing to an olive branch in the candy bag, which turns out to be a green tea candy shaped like a leaf. “And I’ll have your back when you decide to tell. I do hope it’s soon, but you shouldn’t do anything you’re not ready for.”

Zayn kisses Louis’ shoulder and takes the candy. He doesn’t even flinch when it tastes disgusting.

;

“Guys,” Harry says, solemnly. “We have a problem.”

Niall finishes with his flannel and tosses it onto Harry’s chest. “What’s that, Haz?”

Harry folds the flannel origami style until he finds a clean corner and uses it to wipe up the come in his belly button and the hair below it. “We’ve done this twice now this tour, and I still haven’t gotten fucked.”

“It’s because you haven’t got an ass,” Louis shrugs, unapologetically. He knows Harry can’t tell him _he_ doesn’t.

“Don’t hurt my bum’s feelings, dickhead,” Harry pouts, bypassing Louis to hand the increasingly dirty flannel to Liam. Liam drops it on the bed instead of using it, scrunching his nose when it leaves his fingers sticky, and goes back to prodding a lovebite Louis left on his bicep sometime after Liam sucked him off but before Niall got to fuck him.

“Was that it?” Zayn wonders, curled up against Louis’ side. Louis levels him with a curious look. “That was the problem, Haz?”

Harry looks somewhat offended. “It is a huge problem, thank you Zayn. But yes, that was it.” He flops down beside Zayn and Louis and tugs Zayn’s arm over his chest. 

“Well,” Zayn says, around a mouthful of Harry’s curls, “I sort of— I’ve been meaning to tell you lads for a bit, but I was too big a coward, really— Pez and I broke up.” He purses his lips tightly closed like something else might come out on accident. Louis grabs his hand and huddles even closer.

“Wait,” Niall sits up, wide-eyed, and Zayn winces. Usually Niall’s a boneless, floppy mess after getting off. “When? Today?”

Zayn curls up a bit tighter against Louis. “Um, like, a bit before we got to Australia.”

A solemn kind of quiet washes over the five of them, and they seem to all gravitate closer, Harry wrapping a protective arm around Zayn’s middle and Niall reaching over everyone to poke Zayn’s nipples and then his belly. “Boop,” he says, quietly. 

“God, Niall, it’s _zap_ , how many times do we have to tell you,” Louis teases, as gentle as he gets. 

“Nah,” Niall says. “It’s boop for us.” He pets Zayn’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, mate. That’s shit.”

“I was wondering if something was up,” Liam frowns, his hand joining the tangle, knuckles brushing Zayn’s ribs. “Like, I thought I sensed something but I didn’t want to intrude if you didn’t wanna talk about it, you know?”

“Good word,” Zayn smiles, tiny and subdued. With everyone’s hands on him he looks so small. “Didn’t wanna bring you lads down, is all.”

“You can though,” Harry says. “You know? We’re here for you, whether it’s ups or downs.”

“I _know_ that,” Zayn sighs. He traces the butterfly on Harry’s tummy, just for something to ground him. “I just... honestly, I thought I’d tell you sooner. I really did. But then like, we started doing this, right, and I didn’t wanna fuck it up, or make you feel like you had to keep doing it because of me, or something. It’s like,” he licks his lips, trying to sort his thoughts out and put them into words. “Like, I like it when we get time off and all sort of do our own thing, but it’s a different kinda nice when it’s all of us, I guess. I didn’t want to muck that up.”

Liam rubs his thumb across the back of Louis’ hand to touch Zayn’s warm skin. “You can’t muck anything up, Z.”

“You’ve all heard how Harry thinks we’re like, soulmates or sommat,” Louis agrees. “Can’t muck up soulmates, not— not that can’t be fixed, at least.” 

“I guess,” Zayn sighs. Wrapped up in bed with his four best mates, he believes it. “Didn’t want it to turn into a pity thing, either, y’know?”

“I know,” Harry nods, squeezing his side. “I think I speak for all of us, though, when I say that like... sometimes you just need to like, get spoilt a bit? I know I do if I’m feeling down about something.”

“Harry’d probably pull a Tinkerbell on us and die if he didn’t get attention,” Louis points out.

“Totally okay to need a little extra love sometimes,” Niall agrees. “Like when I had my knee surgery, remember? Fuckin’ hated the wheelchair and then the crutches, but you lads were there for me.”

“We’re really good at that, I think,” Liam says, the smile evident in his voice. “We take care of each other. It’s why we’re still us.”

“So mushy,” Zayn points out, but snuggles closer to Harry, pets Liam’s hand on his side. “Just... thanks for not being mad, yeah? It’s shit I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s just shit that it happened, that’s all,” Niall mutters. “We love you, Zayn.”

“Love you,” Zayn says on an exhale. It’s as easy as breathing.

“Even when we’re pests?” Harry asks as Louis clings even closer to Zayn, nuzzles above his ear.

“Always pests, innit,” Zayn murmurs, and closes his eyes.

"Hey," Liam pouts, even though Zayn can't see him. Niall cuddles closer to him, sweaty and sticky as they are, like there's no place he'd rather be.

“Your _favorite_ pests,” Harry grins, sleepily. 

It’s true enough.


End file.
